Harry and The Ladybug
by dannil0ve
Summary: Danni Young runs away from her small life in her small town for something bigger. New York calls her to play and when she gets there she takes on more than she bargained for. But as she settles into her new life on the production team of a talk show she gets even more than she ever bargained for. What would you do if Harry Styles gave you his phone number and asked you to call?
1. Prologue: The Escape

I'd been working with the production for all of 3 months and had met more celebrities than I could count. I had pictures with Justin Bieber, Drake, Johnny Depp, Robert Pattinson, and other stars that came and went for the show. The show exactly I can't name and I'll be changing my name in the story for public relation reasons. I don't want people knowing what happened between me and the infamous "womanizer". Gosh, if people knew who I was, or my story with him? I would probably wake up tomorrow with death threats. I've seen what those preteen girls say about potential love interests in their favorite star's lives. It's disgusting. Girls that are 12 or 11 talking about grown men the way they do? Honey, where are your parents? But I guess I could handle it if I really had to. But I don't have to handle it, cause even though it happened... it's over. So here it is. The story of how I caught, loved, and lost Harry Edward Styles.

With the exception of a few songs done by the Boys, I didn't listen to One Direction all that much. I was in high school when they won X-Factor. I didn't even watch the show. So when the 5 new faces came together to make One Direction, it was little more than a passing fad for me. Of course a lot of my friends talked about them. How hot they were or how incredible their singing was. I gave into peer pressure and watched an episode with my friend at her house one night. Yeah they were cute, and they sang like angels. But what were these boys going to do for me in the real world? The last thing I remember about that night was falling asleep on my couch, the curly-haired one belting out a beautiful note and singing me to sleep.

I graduated top of my class, and I left. Just like that. I broke up with my current boyfriend and I ran away. In the most serious of sense. I ran away. From home. From my friends. From everything that tiny town could never give me. The promise of marrying a successful man and being his wife and raising his kids. Hell no that wasn't for me. I wanted to be my person. To "bring home the bacon". I was strong, independent, and constantly searching for more out of my life. I was smack in the middle of the USA, so where could I go? I could head East and go for the Big Apple, or I could head West and surf the coast. It was the biggest decision in my life. I spent a month staying in some random city, working as a waitress trying to make up my mind about which way to go. My money saved up from working the past 2 years and babysitting since I was 12. It kept me alive and as I was reaching my limit I knew I had to choose. So I closed my eyes, I flipped a coin.

Heads: West

Tails: East

That coin must have been in the air for hours. I couldn't breath, I could barely see. Where would I go? What would I do? How would I make myself? It landed, and I screamed. I screamed so loud that the people next door came over to check on me. The Big Apple! New York!? How could fate be pushing me into one of the meanest, loudest, and craziest cities in the world? I imagined all the horrible things first. Every episode of Law and Order of some girl being raped or killed in New York. I imagined walking down the street and being pulled into an alley or having a gun pressed against my back. The horrors of starting college or a job and being looked down by some snotty bitch with rich parents. Then the good started flooding in and I was sold. Ice skating at Rockefeller! Strolls in the spring at Central Park! Visiting the Lady Liberty in the summer! All those gorgeous looking cafes where I could brunch with a hot date or my girls in the fall. The possibilities were endless for someone who could make it in that city. Who else could make it but me? I was deterred at first and then as I thought about it my ego grew and my resolve to take New York by storm. So I grabbed my backpack, my money. Everything I owned on my back and I walked, thumb out hitchhiking across the East. Was this dangerous? Infinitely, and I'd never ever recommend it to any 18-year-old fresh out of high school.

But with my less than modest clothing, freckles and tan skin from walking in the sun and long black hair months grown out, I got plenty of rides across the cities that lead to New York. I met probably dozens of people. Families. Truckers. People like me trying to get away and people trying to get home. I even got a few creeps, but somehow I always got away unscathed. Something that surprised me as I hit the Pennsylvania border. I was sitting in the back of a mini van when this happened. A quiet sleeping family in front of me. Why they would pick me up when they had 2 kids and a Chihuahua on their way to Maine was beyond me. But I got my answer a few miles later when they dropped me off in Pittsburgh and took their time praying for my safety. Religious folks were probably the majority of the people that picked me up. In fact it was pretty half and half as far as creeps and religious families goes. But I made it safely to Pennsylvania so I had high hopes for the rest of the trip. There was a lot of walking, a lot of stopping at gas stations to assure my mother I was safely where I wanted to be. They'd threatened to call the cops several times while I was traveling from home, but because I was a legal adult it was my decision to leave. My money I had saved and my life I was putting on the line to be independent. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I was naïve, but looking back now it was the greatest decision of my life. I hit the Big Apple on the back of a motorcycle. A truck stop I hit up had a whole gang and one rider in particular was being real friendly. HE was perfectly sober, which was odd. But he was also terribly fond of my necklace I wore. An owl, which he said reminded him of his daughter back home. When I brought up New York he seemed almost sad and promised me a ride the entire way, free of charge. His name was Robert, but he made me call him Bob. He was probably the nicest and most accepting person I met on my trip. My arms were placed on his waist when I laid my eyes on New York for the first time in my life. The bridge, the skyline. No one ever lied to me. It was huge. Everything seemed so much bigger than myself and I wanted to pull off the helmet he insisted I wear and scream out that I made it. I was home. My heart felt it too. I was where I belong. In New York.

I asked Bob to drop me off right in the heart of the city. Central Park. He gladly obliged and my last real memory with Bob was of the walk we shared in the park. That's where my story truly began, was with an end. My goodbye to Bob.


	2. Chapter 1: Taylor Swift

"Are you sure you got everything off the bike?"

"Yes sir! At least I don't think I left my shades did I?" I start taking my backpack off, hoping the cheap but durable sunglasses were still sitting in the little pocket.

"They're on yer head kiddo," Bob smirks, his handlebar mustache twitching as he laughs.

I roll my eyes and place my hand on the shades. I was always forgetting where I left everything. I'm surprised I made it this far with all my things.

"Where ya gonna go first? I mean fer a job and e'reything," he asks, looking almost worried about me.

"I don't know, maybe hit up a couple coffee shops. Find a little apartment for as cheap as they come," I say, pulling my shades in front of my eyes. Summer was still hitting hard in the August heat. I'd made it so far in just a few months and I was so proud of my progress, getting a job would be cake.

"Do you need anything? Any extra cash or..." he trails off, giving me that same sad look from the first night I met him.

"Bob...?" I say quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Something in his eyes almost looks like tears.

"Please don't think ah'm weird or nuthin darlin'," he says softly, his gentle blue eyes watching me so closely.

"Of course not!" I feel like I owe this man more than just a goodbye, maybe he needs closure.

"If you don't mind, could I tell you about her?" he asks carefully.

I nod, ready to listen to anything. He goes on then, to tell me about his wife, a woman who looked almost exactly like me when he first met her. At the young age of 18 as well. They fell in love and grew old together. But now, Bob at 49 and widower to his wife, seeing me had broken him. Made him remember all the wonderful times he spent with her. All over the country they traveled until she died riding on the back of someone else's bike. A quick ride from the bar to their hotel because Bob was too drunk to drive one night and she ended up hit by a semi. I cry as he tells me about her. About what happened. This man who could probably scare the daylights out of anyone was sitting here in the middle of Central Park retelling how he held his baby boy for the first time and then crying even more about how he hadn't been able to tell the kids yet what happened. I urge him the best I can to go to his kids and tell them. Mourn with them.  
Bob thanks me endlessly for the courage I give him to go to his kids. The ashes of their mother remaining only in the urn he keeps tucked safely in his bike bag. I hug him for a good 5 minutes before he composes himself and walks away, leaving me. I stand there until he disappears from my sight. When he finally turns a corner and vanishes from my sight I let my head fall and take in where I am.

Danni Young, eighteen years old, all of $3000 tucked away in my backpack and not a clue in the world about where to go first. My goodbye with Bob left me sad but eager to move forward. I walk around the park, find the perfect spot on the top of a grassy hill and I just let go. Screaming off towards the impossibly tall buildings that I made it. I made it! To New York City! Someone far off tells me to shut it and I laugh, I laugh until I'm crying. Then I sit on that grassy hill and I cry for a long time. Probably forever from the feel of it. The grass under my legs invites me to stay. To build an entire home around this one spot. I stand and say goodbye to the grassy hill, trying hard to memorize the spot for future visits.

I walk towards the buildings first, intent on finding a job, something easy-going. The city hits me harder than I expect. People. An endless supply of bodies flooding all around me. People in suits. Protesters. Homeless men and women. Cars moving. Horns honking. Everything New York always promises you in a city. Absolute beautiful chaos. I learn at least five new cuss words in the first three minutes. The people on their way to work, chatting for miles on their phones to who knows. People selling food, clothes, jewelry, shoes, postcards, and almost anything you can imagine. I've never been so overwhelmed. I walk for an hour, just soaking it all in when it hits me. No, it literally hits me. A girl in a pale blouse and blue jeans runs right into me. I fly back, hitting against the wall of some building. This girl, who can't be more than a few years older than me just keeps going. Jogging along like she doesn't have a care in the world, but it's clear a moment later that she does. Her hands are full up, one holding a whole tray of coffees from Starbucks and a sleek cellphone in her other. She's mad as hell and running over more people on her way down the street.

"I told you I'm on my way! I don't care if we're short-staffed and that bitch Amy quit! I can't move any faster than the mach speed I am now traveling at!", she's yelling as she zooms along. I almost raise my voice to yell. To use one of the new cuss words still fresh in my mind. But her private conversation with mystery person catches my attention. Availability? Space for someone young? Naive? Ready to be bossed around? Oh that was so me. I stalk. I'm not even going to lie, I stalk that pretty girl in her blue jeans, pale blue blouse and black heels. She moves really fast for a girl in heels. She looks stressed but somehow content, looking up at the huge buildings and almost letting out this smile before running over another helpless victim. I follow her, all the way down the street and when she gets into a car to drive off I hail a taxi. I've never been able to whistle loud so I yell, as loud as I can and thank the taxi gods someone stops. I hop in, in full adrenaline mode and I say it. The thing in movies that you always want the chance to say but never get it.

"Follow that car!" I point at the black town car and the taxi driver turns in his seat, raising an eyebrow.

"You serious right now lady?" his thick accent making me even more excited.

"I could get out and pay someone else if you don't want me to be serious," I say back, not taking me eyes off the car.

That got him going and we're off, following this car. Me in the backseat trembling with excitement. Him in the front rolling his eyes like I'm some kid. Oh, my first day and already get to knock Follow That Car off my list. Today is going to be good. We drive for a few blocks before the car turns a street. But something here is different. There are crowds of people with signs. Protesters?

No, this is different. Fans. Thousands of people gathered for one reason. Taylor Swift. I feel my excitement shoot through the roof of my taxi and into the sky. I look back to the car we're following and watch as the girl with the coffee gets out of her car and walks straight past the crowds of fans and into the building that obviously holds the star that so many people have gathered for. I ask my driver to stop and finally get a good look at him. He's a middle-aged white man, same kind of mustache as Bob. I smile as I wonder if this is going to be a thing for me. I pay the man his money with a tip and step out into the screaming frenzy that is my destination. I walk straight to where the girl just walked through and I'm immediately held back by a large man in shades and a black shirt.

"Sorry, no entry," he says, looking down at me over his sunglasses.

"I'm here about a job," I reply, leaning in close so he can hear me.

"A lot of people here for a lot of reasons Ma'am, but you ain't getting in," he smirks, obviously having heard my excuse several times.

"Look pal," I lean in a little closer and give him my best look, "I'm not some stupid fan holding a sign or book for a signature or anything like that."  
He gives me that smirk and I keep going, hoping I'm hitting all the right buttons.

"I just want to get in there, leave my name and an application with the HR and get out before T Swift arrives or leaves," I whisper, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance about the whole thing, "I'll be in and out as soon as possible and you can even hold my phone as incentive." I pull my iPhone out of my pocket and show it to him, hoping with all my might this will be my in.

He slips the phone out of my hand and into his pocket quickly before stepping aside and letting me through. I nearly squeal with excitement, getting up on my toes and kissing his cheek with a happy "Thank you!" before walking into the building.

As the doors closes behind I realize I have no idea what I'm doing. The girl I saw earlier was wearing nice clothes and heels and here I was, hair a mess, an old checkered button up t-shirt, worn out shorts, and busted up converses. I'm at least 2 days out from my last shower. What am I thinking? I look back out at the crowd of fans and take a deep breath. I'm in New York. It's either try or die. So I turn back to the desk at the front and walk confidently to the snooty looking secretary.

"Yes?" she sighs, pressing buttons on a phone receiver.

"I'm here about filling in the job that was recently quit," I say quickly, trying to smooth out my shirt of the bottom where she can't see over the desk.

"How do you know about that?" she asks quietly, leaning forward in her chair. It was obvious I caught a little piece of gossip.

"I was referred," I reply, hoping this is the edge I need.

The girl gives me this horrible look down. From the top of my hair to the bottom of my shoe. Every inch of me scrutinized by her piercing blue eyes. I try to smile but find my mouth dry. When's the last time I had water or food? I know there's a bottle of water in my backpack but to take it out now and guzzle it down is probably less than a good idea.

"Right," she finally says, rolling her eyes. She starts dialing a number and talking quickly into the receiver.

I turn and look back out to the raging crowd. Music is heard through the building and I wonder to myself if Taylor Swift is already here or soon to arrive. My answer comes in the form of a gorgeously tall woman walking out into the lobby from a side door. Taylor Swift. She's just as beautiful as any picture captures. There's this sweetness in her eyes that falls upon the crowds of people outside. I watch her now, never having met a celebrity before. It's a bit humbling to see this person before me. A human like me but infinitely brighter. Truly a star. She brightens even more and waves to the crowd of people. That's pretty much the spark that ignites the bomb about to explode. The crowd outside erupts, cheering and chanting at the sight of their idol. I see what's happening before anyone else and that's probably why I react first. I move forward, Taylor being only a few feet in front of me by now. I place a hand gently on her upper arm to get her attention and she looks to me, still smiling but softer now.

"Yes?" she asks, her southern accent underlining her beautiful voice.

I open my mouth to speak, but I realize when I look back to the crowd that I don't really have a lot of time to explain. They're pressed against the security, trying to get past and through and there's this weakness towards the middle. I see this and I wrap my arm in Taylor's as coolly as I can, walking her away from the lobby.

"Ms. Swift, I think it might be in your best interest to come with me," I say softly, trying to stay as calm as I can. She follows along, looking around at her private security and the secretary who's staring at me in disbelief.

"Where are we going?" she asks, still smiling as she waves out to her fans.

"Somewhere... safe," I smile and wave with her, trying to play it off as natural as possible. She's not fighting me, which surprises me but I count it up to good luck and look back to where I can see the security starting to fall 's when it happens. My eyes come into contact with one of the fans, a rather flamboyant young man who was crying from the looks of it was dipping under the same security guard that stopped me. When the guard turned to grab him was when they broke through and the wave started. I quickened my pace and Taylor's private security stepped between her and the crowd. They pass the secretary where we just standing and hit the two guards just as me and Taylor practically jogged into a door and down a hallway. We passed a room with her name on and she slowed to walk in.

"They'll know you're in there," I said carefully, keeping my pace down the hallway and into a janitor's closet.

It was dark for what felt like forever. Neither of us spoke but I swear I could see her smile even in the darkness.

"I'm sorry!" I burst out, reaching up to find the switch so that the light comes on. It's just then that I can hear the cheering crowd coming into the hallway and running to her dressing room door. The security could be heard moving through the crowd, obviously trying to check on Taylor and keep her safe. I peek out the door and down at the crowd, some people holding signs, squashing into the hallway as they stare at the door, yelling for Taylor.

"Don't be sorry, that could have been dangerous," she says, peeking out the door with me. I take a deep breath and let myself realize where I am and who I'm with. We pull back into the closet and stand in silence for a moment.

"Oh my gosh! You're Taylor Swift! I love your music and I can't tell you how much i wished you would come to my city but we're such a small town and you only really hit the busy cities, oh my I can't believe I just did that," I ramble on and on, watching her smile at me pleasantly. I take a deep breath and shake my head laughing. She laughs with me, patting my shoulder and taking a look out the door.

"Well thank you for doing what you did," she laughs, peeking back out into the hall. The noise is dying down and I realize I can't talk. Standing in a little broom closet with Taylor Swift. Hello New York!

Things die down fairly quickly when her security guards threaten to call the police. I somehow get caught in the confusion when they find us hiding away in the broom closet. The security guard is ready to throw me out but she stands up for me. Talking about how I brought her to safety and away from the wave. Some people from the talk show she was on come into the party and ask me an endless amount of questions. Somewhere in the chaos and questions I end up in an office. Right before Taylor was taken away she snapped a picture of us together and posted it to Twitter and somehow my face was being blown up all over the internet as this amazing rep for the talk show. The only problem was that I didn't work for the talk show or anyone. So when I was given my iPhone back and I get on twitter to check it out, I have hundreds of new messages there and on Facebook and more texts from friends and family than I thought possible. I turn my phone off, taking a deep breath just as a woman walks in.

She walks with this air of confidence that demands my attention. I feel smaller now than I did when I was with Taylor Swift. I'm completely lost for a moment until she walks behind the desk and sits before me.

"What you did today was completely inappropriate and uncalled for," she talks quickly, like something more important is being held up while she reprimands me. I don't respond, still a little scared by her presence.

"We have this image of you," she says, turning her computer screen towards me so I can see the picture of me and Taylor posted on her Twitter, "and it's not good. If this is what we represent as a company then we're going to lose credibility as a company. So I have a few options here. I can kick you out and condemn you from ever working in the public eye again."

I flinch at this statement and start to speak but she cuts me off before I even open my mouth, obviously not wanting to hear anything I have to say.  
"Or I could hire you, and build you up into this perfect employee that celebrities and other companies will die for," she smiles now, her idea lighting up her eyes with passion.

"I don't work here, I just came in today for a job," I finally say, my lip trembling at the idea of getting a job in such a huge business.

"Well you do now," she replies, standing and pulling me out the door with her strong but gentle grip. Somehow it reminds me of my mother and I want to cry but I hold it back, looking around at the huge and beautiful place I was too dazed to notice before. It's a mixture of feelings in the building. One moment you come face to face with these beautiful people, and then you're trampled by a busy worker carrying coffee with all types of gear hooked up to their belts. But all of them look pleased. Pleased to be working for this woman now leading me down a hall and into another office where a tall gorgeous man is standing at a desk, flipping through a magazine. He looks up and flashes this smile that makes me want to melt.

"What do we have here Rachel?" he says, walking up to me and around me, inspecting every inch of my body as I stand there. It's evident immediately that he has no concern whatsoever about what's underneath the clothes. I smile and look down and then back up, excited to jump into this new life.  
There's a moment in your life, and you'll experience it one day, when everything falls together perfectly. When someone comes along and hands you everything you need in that moment. I remember the first time I met Jacob, my ex boyfriend from home. It was my freshman year in high school. He appeared out of nowhere and declared himself my best friend. I remember laughing at him, wondering where he got the nerve. That was one of those moments, because he was everything I never knew I needed. This moment now is another one, but I know I need all of it. The opportunity, the make over, and the promise of a room with an intern that worked in the fashion department.

They decided to keep me around, I believe mostly for the publicity. People came and went on that first day. I was set up in a room where they fixed and cut my hair, cleaned me up, and redressed me. I was given more outfits in that one day than I'd ever owned in my entire life. The official title they were giving me was Liaison Simple and yet much more complicated than I'd imagine. They wanted me to do whatever I could to keep the celebrities that showed up comfortable. I was also in charge of informing them of when they were going to be on camera, when they could leave and arrive. It was the job of a lifetime with a salary that made me scream when I saw my first check. That first day felt like when I first met Jacob. Like everything was going to be perfect from that moment on.

Somewhere in the back of my head I knew that comparing what was going on in front f me to my relationship with Jacob was a bad idea. I broke up with Jacob, would this end that way too? With heartache and tears?

Only time would tell as I came one day closer to the day that meant more to me than landing that job. More than meeting Jacob for the first time. The day that changed my life forever.


End file.
